bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第240节
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through the sight of some handwriting—in this very house； and
when you yourself； Sir Leicester Dedlock； were present—the
existence； in great poverty； of a certain person； who had been her
lover before you courted her； and who ought to have been her
husband；” Mr Bucket stops； and deliberately repeats； “ought to
have been her husband； not a doubt about it。 I know from his lips；
that when that person soon afterwards died； he suspected Lady
Dedlock of visiting his wretched lodging； and his wretcheder
grave； alone and in secret。 I know from my own inquiries； and
through my eyes and ears； that Lady Dedlock did make such visit；
in the dress of her own maid； for the deceased Mr Tulkinghorn
employed me to reckon up her Ladyship—if you’ll excuse my
making use of the term we commonly employ—and I reckoned her
up； so far； completely。 I confronted the maid； in the chambers in
Lincoln’s Inn Fields； with a witness who had been Lady Dedlock’s
guide； and there couldn’t be the shadow of a doubt that she had
worn the young woman’s dress； unknown to her。 Sir Leicester
Dedlock； Baronet； I did endeavour to pave the way a little towards
these unpleasant disclosures yesterday； by saying that very
strange things happened even in high families sometimes。 All this；
and more； has happened in your own family； and to and through
your own Lady。 It’s my belief that the deceased Mr Tulkinghorn
followed up these inquiries to the hour of his death； and that he
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and Lady Dedlock even had bad blood between them upon the
matter； that very night。 Now； only you put that to Lady Dedlock；
Sir Leicester Dedlock； Baronet； and ask her Ladyship whether；
even after he had left here； she didn’t go down to his chambers
with the intention of saying something further to him； dressed in a
loose black mantle with a deep fringe to it。”
Sir Leicester sits like a statute； gazing at the cruel finger that is
probing the life…blood of his heart。
“You put that to her Ladyship； Sir Leicester Dedlock； Baronet；
from me； Inspector Bucket of the Detective。 And if her Ladyship
makes any difficulty about admitting of it； you tell her that’s it no
use； that Inspector Bucket knows it； and knows that she passed
the soldier as you called him （though he’s not in the army now）；
and knows that she knows she passed him； on the staircase。 Now；
Sir Leicester Dedlock； Baronet； why do I relate all this？”
Sir Leicester； who has covered his face with his hands； uttering
a single groan； requests him to pause for a moment。 By…and…by； he
takes his hands away； and so preserves his dignity and outward
calmness； though there is no more colour in his face than in his
white hair； that Mr Bucket is a little awed by him。 Something
frozen and fixed is upon his manner； over and above its usual shell
of haughtiness； and Mr Bucket soon detects an unusual slowness
in his speech； with now and then a curious trouble in beginning；
which occasions him to utter inarticulate sounds。 With such
sounds he now breaks silence； soon； however； controlling himself
to say； that he does not comprehend why a gentleman so faithful
and zealous as the late Mr Tulkinghorn should have
communicated to him nothing of this painful； this distressing； this
unlooked…for； this overwhelming； this incredible intelligence。
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“Again； Sir Leicester Dedlock； Baronet；” returns Mr Bucket；
“put it to her Ladyship to clear that up。 Put it to her Ladyship； if
you think right； from Inspector Bucket of the Detective。 You’ll
find； or I’m much mistaken； that the deceased Mr Tulkinghorn
had the intention of communicating the whole to you； as soon as
he considered it ripe； and further； that he had given her Ladyship
so to understand。 Why； he might have been going to reveal it on
the very morning when I examined the body！ You don’t know
what I’m going to say and do； five minutes from this present time；
Sir Leicester Dedlock； Baronet； and supposing I was to be picked
off now； you might wonder why I hadn’t done it； don’t you see？”
True。 Sir Leicester； avoiding with some trouble； those obtrusive
sounds； says； “True。” At this juncture； a considerable noise of
voices is heard in the hall。 Mr Bucket； after listening； goes to the
library…door； softly unlocks and opens it； and listens again。 Then
he draws in his head； and whispers； hurriedly； but composedly；
“Sir Leicester Dedlock； Baronet； this unfortunate family affair has
taken air； as I expected it might； the deceased Mr Tulkinghorn
being cut down so sudden。 The chance to hush it； is to let in these
people； now in a wrangle with your footmen。 Would you mind
sitting quiet—on the family account—while I reckon ’em up？ And
would you just throw in a nod； when I seem to ask you for it？”
Sir Leicester indistinctly answers； “Officer。 The best you can；
the best you can！” and Mr Bucket； with a nod and a sagacious
crook of the forefinger； slips down into the hall； where the voices
quickly die away。 He is not long in returning； a few paces ahead of
Mercury； and a brother deity also powdered and in peach…blossom
smalls； who bear between them a chair in which is an incapable
old man。 Another man and two women come behind。 Directing the
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pitching of the chair； in an affable and easy manner； Mr Bucket
dismisses the Mercuries； and locks the door again。 Sir Leicester
looks on at this invasion of the sacred precincts with an icy stare。
“Now； perhaps you may know me； ladies and gentlemen；” says
Mr Bucket； in a confidential voice。 “I am Inspector Bucket of the
Detective； I am； and this；” producing the tip of his convenient little
staff from his breast pocket； “is my authority。 Now； you wanted to
see Sir Leicester Dedlock； Baronet。 Well！ You do see him； and；
mind you； it ain’t every one as is admitted to that honour。 Your
name； old gentleman； is Smallweed； that’s what your name is； I
know it well。”
“Well； and you never heard any harm of it！” cried Mr
Smallweed； in a shrill loud voice。
“You don’t happen to know why they killed the pig； do you？”
retorts Mr Bucket； with a steadfast look； but without loss of
temper。
“No！”
“Why； they killed him；” says Mr Bucket； “on account of his
having so much cheek。 Don’t you get into the same position；
because it isn’t worthy of you。 You ain’t in the habit of conversing
with a deaf person； are you？”
“Yes；” snarls Mr Smallweed； “my wife’s deaf。”
“That accounts for your pitching your voice so high。 But as she
ain’t here； just pitch it an octave or two lower； will you； and I’ll not
only be obliged to you； but it’ll do you more credit；” says Mr
Bucket。 “This other gentleman is in the preaching line； I think？”
“Name of Chadband；” Mr Smallweed puts in； speaking
henceforth in a much lower key。
“Once had a friend and brother serjeant of the same name；”
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says Mr Bucket； offering his hand； “and consequently feel a liking
for it。 Mrs Chadband； no doubt？”
“And Mrs Snagsby；” Mr Smallweed introduces。
“Husband
